A crashing thunder rolled through the jungle's edge. Trees snapped like brittle twigs, vines tore loose, and a wave of shattered foliage poured into the valley.
Felicity's armor snapped into guard mode, silver tendrils bristling as she raised her arms. Elder Zhang spun, his hand already gripping a talisman, eyes wild with panic. The Poison Lotus cultivators scrambled into formation, blades drawn, qi flaring nervously.
"For Heaven's sake, what is it now!?" Elder Zhang cried, his voice cracking under the strain of endless chaos.
But I froze. My breath caught in my throat as I stared into the shifting wall of jungle. "No way…" My voice was barely more than a whisper. "How? It can't be! Can it?"
The trees exploded outward.
A massive chest, jagged and steel-banded, thundered into the clearing like a wild beast. Purple flames licked at its seams, its lock glowing like an ominous eye. Except—it wasn't ominous at all. Because with a booming thud, the mimic barreled into me, knocking me flat to the ground.
The cultivators gasped, some readying finishing blows—until the mimic's lid split open like a giant jaw and a huge purple tongue slopped across my ninja plate in wet, sloppy licks.
"W-w-what the—?!" Felicity's silver eyes blinked in confusion.
The chest wagged its base, thumping the dirt like a delighted hound.
"Whoa, boy, whoa!" I laughed, half-pinned under its enthusiastic weight. I pushed against its glossy, rune-carved side, only to be rewarded with another slobbery swipe of the tongue across my face.
Elder Zhang gawked, lowering his talisman. "…Is… is that a Soul Furnace mimic? They're supposed to be unbondable! They eat cultivators alive!"
The Poison Lotus cultivators exchanged uneasy glances, their battle stances faltering as the mimic rolled happily onto its side, scraping its runed belly against the dirt like a puppy begging for attention.
Still laughing, I climbed back to my feet and scratched the glowing lock at its "forehead." The mimic shuddered with a low, contented hum, purple fire dimming to a gentle glow.
"It's alright," I said with a grin, wiping my face. "He's mine."
The clearing went silent except for the mimic's happy, wet snuffling and the thunder still rumbling like a distant drum. Someone — a Poison Lotus blade-sister with a spider-bite scar — let out a short, incredulous laugh that sounded too much like a sob.
"He—he answered to you?" she stammered, eyes darting between me and the chest as if either could bite at any moment.
At the word, the mimic snapped its lid shut for a heartbeat, then cracked it open like it couldn't help itself and shoved its glowing lock under my palm. The runes along its bands brightened where my skin met steel, spilling warm, violet light across my fingers. The heat was pleasant — the sort that made the back of your neck prickle with old promises, not the scorching burn of a furnace.
Elder Zhang's panic congealed into wonder. "Un-bondable Soul Furnaces do not—" He stopped, finger trembling over the talisman at his throat. "They do not show recognition. Not like that."
"Yes, I am his master, he was gifted to me by Pirate King Dante of the Cursed Delta," I said, and the grin slipped into something fond and private. "He must off abandon the Starbite and started his journey the moment he felt my qi Signature. I guess he likes my jokes."
A ripple of nervous laughter broke the tension as the cultivators lowered their weapons. The Poison Lotus warriors were starting to become use to miracles.
One of the scarred sisters, took a step forward despite herself and reached toward the chest as if she might give it a few experimental pets on the chest cover. The mimic's lid snapped partway closed with a soft, disappointed thump, and it emitted a sound that might have been a whine.
"Careful!" I warned, more gently than she deserved. "He's got teeth. And manners."
A few meters away, Felicity unbuckled a plate on her exo-gauntlet and dabbed at the grime on her cheek, silver tendrils loosening into a relaxed braid. She looked absurdly calm — as though a mimic puppy should be the most normal thing in any battlefield tableau. "Looks well-fed," she said, deadpan. "And oddly hygienic for a thing steeped in purple flame."
The Poison Lotus captain's jaw worked; she had the look of someone trying to compute an equation with missing variables. "If that chest is bonded to you, then either you broke a law of nature or you broke a law of the Soul Forges," she said. "Either way — that's dangerous. Soul Furnaces remember the strength of what they ate. They mark their keepers."
At the last word the mimic rolled, suddenly alert. Its runes flared brighter, and it heaved itself up on its tubby little legs, pressing its bulk against my thigh like a stubborn beast staking claim. When it did, a scrap of paper — no bigger than my palm — slid out from under the lid and fluttered against the dirt. I caught it instinctively.
On it, a hastily sketched sigil: an angular fang bisected a star over a hammer. The ink had burned slightly at the edges, browned as the paper had been kissed by purple flame. The Sigil and its meaning intrigued me greatly, not only that, but this was the first time the mimic had performed such an act.
The mimic thumped its wooden base and wagged its lid in the only way a thing without a tail could. It was, undeniably, delighted. I looked down to the Mimic and then to the poison lotus clan territory, it's city and great temple in the distance. Now that I had a powerful soul furnace at my disposal I could apply some of the crafting and blacksmithing knowledge I had gained from the second-floor library of the Firefly Kings inheritance.
As we moved out of the clearing and into the strong hold of the Poison Lotus clan the jungle closed behind us like the pages of a book, I kept my hand on its lock. The purple glow at our fingertips dimmed to a steady ember, warm and steady as a secret. Every so often the mimic would poke its lid open and peer up at me with something like reverence. For all the danger in the world — grand tournaments, broken pacts, clans sharpening their knives — there was, in that ridiculous imprisoned beast, a loyalty I had not expected to inherit.
The jungle gave way to stone. Terraced walls rose like cliffs of pale jade, choked in vines, but polished and alive with lantern light. Bridges of blackwood arched between towers carved into lotus petals, and the air reeked of incense, blooming flowers, and the faint, metallic sting of poison smoke.
This...was Fanghua. The Poison Lotus capital.
The mimic trundled behind us, its stubby legs thumping happily against the cobbled causeway. Every so often its lid cracked open to waggle at Felicity, who arched one elegant brow as though she were indulging a spoiled pup.
I turned the scrap of paper over in my palm for the hundredth time. That sigil — a fang bisecting a star over a hammer, edges scorched with purple flame — hadn't stopped gnawing at my thoughts. "What are you trying to tell me, boy?" I muttered, thumb brushing the burn marks.
Felicity leaned in, her antennae like feelers brushing my cheek. "You realize it's trying to… write, don't you? That's very unusual, Ash. This Mimic is not just a chest with teeth."
Before I could answer, the world tilted.
It started as a whisper: "Lord Ash." Then louder — "It's It's Lord Ash!"
Hundreds of heads turned. Merchants dropped their wares. Apprentices, beggars, even guardsmen blinked and began rushing forward.
"Even a Soul Furnace mimic is subject to him!" someone cried.
"And look — a Silver-Blooded Queen Phageal at his side!"
"Bless us, Lord Ash! Bless our children!"
"Lord Ash is divine!"
The crowd surged like floodwater, and suddenly Felicity and I were clutching hands so tightly I could feel the grooves of her armored gauntlet bite into my palm. Faces pressed in on every side, hands clawing, beseeching, as if I had descended from the heavens to heal their wounds and settle their debts.
Through our bond, my thought stammered in raw panic: What do we do!?!
Felicity's laughter, cool and merciless, curled back into me. Are you kidding me? What can we do?
I gritted my teeth and forced a smile, bowing stiffly, blessing no one, simply trying not to drown in devotion. The mimic barreled through legs and robes, growling protectively one moment, wagging its lid the next, as if torn between mauling the crowd or licking them.
Then — salvation.
The air thickened. A wave of qi rolled outward, heavy as a temple bell tolling. The press of bodies halted as if struck by invisible chains.
An elder of the Poison Lotus Clan floated forward, feet barely touching the ground. His aura burned green-gold, and with a single sweep of his sleeve the mob fell back, cowed into silence. He raised his voice, steady and commanding:
"Restrain yourselves! Do not trample our honored guest. Twice now, Lord Ash has delivered Fanghua from ruin — once from the shadow of the blood plague, and again from Lord Imperion! He has earned peace, not suffocation."
The citizens froze, trembling under the elder's gaze. Step by step, the wall of bodies peeled away, leaving Felicity and me in a sudden clearing. My lungs filled with air for the first time in what felt like minutes.
The elder bowed, hands folded. "Welcome to Fanghua, Lord Ash. Please, allow us to see that your experience here is worthy of our salvation."
The mimic thumped down beside me with a pleased groan. Felicity squeezed my hand once, smirking. "Well, Lord Ash," she murmured aloud this time, already reading and deciphering my inner motivations for coming here. Felicity's new power and our deepening bond was allowing her to read my mind. "shall we go buy you those blacksmithing toys before someone builds you a shrine?"
The elder hovered over us in the background as we pressed deeper into Fanghua. The market streets narrowed between petal-arched gates and incense-drenched plazas. The air rang with hawkers calling over their venom-laced teas, lacquered weapon racks, and cages of glittering beetles the size of hounds. Somewhere nearby, a forge rang iron into rhythm, each strike punctuating the hum of the city.
Felicity tugged on my hand, amused at the mimic bounding after us like an overeager dog. "Tools first. Then supplies. If we linger too long, someone's going to paint your face on a banner."
I nodded, but my thoughts still circled that sigil in my pocket. A fang bisecting a star. Why would the mimic forge produce that? And why now?
Then my head snapped up.
At the far end of the avenue — past rows of ordinary smiths' stalls and tinkers — stood a single shop built of dark stone, its windows latticed in bronze. Above the doorway hung a sigil wrought in hammered steel: a fang driven straight through a star, a smith's hammer braced beneath.
The same mark. Exactly.
The slip in my pocket seemed to burn hotter, even through the fabric. The mimic gave a guttural whuff and thumped toward the shop, runes on its bands flickering like a heartbeat.
Felicity followed my gaze, silver eyes narrowing. "That's it, isn't it? The sign from your slip."
"Yeah," I murmured. "That's it."
The crowd noise seemed to thin around us as I approached. The clang of other forges dulled, leaving only the rhythmic, deliberate ring of a hammer on anvil drifting from behind the shop's door.
I paused at the threshold, pulse quickening. This wasn't just a blacksmith's storefront. It felt… deliberate. Waiting.
I glanced at Felicity. She gave me a tiny shrug, lips quirking. "Well? Don't keep fate waiting, Lord Ash."
The mimic bounded past me and smacked its bulk against the door until it creaked open. A wash of heat and firelight spilled into the street.
I stepped inside.